


I wanna do bad things to you (baby, don't you want me to?)

by FullmetalChords



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Cock Warming, M/M, Married Couple, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Canon, Riding, Rimming, Switching, after the war, the consort dimitri agenda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: “Ooh!” He peers from behind Dimitri to see what he’s looking at. “You found my fuck juice.”Dimitri can’t help but splutter, turning back to glare at his husband.“I’m sorry,” he says, the indignation in his voice apparent. “Your what?”“Here I thought the name was self-explanatory.” Claude comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Dimitri’s torso. “Is it not evocative enough for you?”--Claude and his new consort decide to take an aphrodisiac. It works slightly better than they'd bargained for. (dimiclaude/claumitri, switching, look at the rest of the tags for more)





	I wanna do bad things to you (baby, don't you want me to?)

**Author's Note:**

> well, here it is... the horniest thing I've ever written. Someday I'll write some dimiclaude that has some actual plot and character development in it. or find a consistent writing genre. 
> 
> Title is a slight bastardization of the lyrics to CRJ's "Want You In My Room," which I had on repeat when writing the last scene.

It looks innocent enough.

It rests on Claude’s nightstand beside the bed he shares with Dimitri, a liquid held in the same sort of bottle that healers keep vulneraries and concoctions in. The biggest difference is the color — bright, iridescent blue, swirling faintly in the lamplight.

Dimitri studies it for a moment, his head cocked at an angle, when Claude comes up behind him.

“Ooh!” He peers from behind Dimitri to see what he’s looking at. “You found my fuck juice.”

Dimitri can’t help but splutter, turning back to glare at his husband.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the indignation in his voice apparent. “Your _what_?”

“Here I thought the name was self-explanatory.” Claude comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Dimitri’s torso. “Is it not evocative enough for you?”

It had been one of the results of Claude’s many experiments with alchemy, back when they’d been in school. He’d been experimenting with various herbs and mushrooms one particular afternoon in the hopes that he might create something to dose his enemies with, with the goal of lowering their aggression. Claude had tested it on himself, as he did all his creations, but this particular batch… hadn’t quite had the effect he’d expected.

Rather, Claude had accidentally stumbled on something more likely to save a soldier’s marriage than make them leave the battlefield. Not that he’d complained at the time, or had had any inclination to use this particular concoction in battle once he’d discovered what it really did.

“The word ‘aphrodisiac’ exists, Claude,” Dimitri says weakly, his cheeks burning red. “You don’t have to—”

“Fuck juice,” Claude repeats, clearly, cheekily, and stands on his tiptoes so he can hook his chin over Dimitri’s shoulder, chuckling. “Sheesh, I still remember that day. Never got the stains out of those sheets.” He shivers, recalling that particular afternoon with relish. What had begun as a simple, quick jerk-off session had turned into something of a marathon, the kind of masturbatory fantasy most teenage boys dreamed of. Only outside circumstances had prevented Claude from continuing to use it, instead burying it in the bottom of his school trunk as they’d fled the monastery.

Only to unearth it now, years later, still as brilliantly blue as he remembers it.

Dimitri covers Claude’s hands with his own, leaning back in his embrace. It’s a warm night in Almyra, their bedroom windows open to let out some of the day’s heat, and Claude takes the moment to savor the quiet of the night outside the royal fortress. It’s been a long day for the two of them, visiting some of the poorer villages on the outskirts of Almyra that have been the most affected by the recently ended conflict with Fodlan. It had been one of Dimitri’s first official duties as Claude’s new consort, having abdicated the throne to Fodlan just last month. Today, they’d visited orphanages and refugee camps along the border, with Dimitri offering new clothing and food to people displaced by the conflict, patting children on the head as they ran up to greet him.

It had warmed Claude’s heart beyond words, seeing Dimitri so pleased to take part in directly helping others, free from the burden of the crown that had kept him weighed down all these years. It reminds him of why he’d fallen in love with Dimitri in the first place.

They'd married on the same day Dimitri resigned the throne. They’d celebrated with a simple ceremony at Fodlan's Locket where they'd voiced the promises they'd already made each other long ago, their friends and Claude's family with them. Rather than rings, they'd shared a single pair of earrings Hilda had made for them: fossilized wyvern fangs made of opalized bone they'd recovered when fighting Demonic Beasts, the blue and green stones dangling from their ears from a gold setting. Dimitri wears his on the right, and Claude on the left; an old Almyran tradition that marks them as a matched set, never to be parted again.

But regardless, today has been exhausting. Claude finds comfort in simply being able to stand with his freshly minted prince consort in quiet, holding him in his arms and listening to him breathe.

“I wonder if it still works,” Dimitri muses after several long, peaceful moments.

Claude hums, drawn out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“If… it still works.” Dimitri’s ears and neck are flushing. “Your, uh… juice.”

“Hmmm.” Claude releases Dimitri so they can face one another. “Guess there’s only one way to find out, huh?”

Dimitri blinks at him.

“Is that wise?”

Claude shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen?” The most dangerous effect Claude has ever experienced from one of his brews is some mild intestinal discomfort, which certainly hadn’t been a side effect of this one. “Either it still works, or it doesn’t.” He smirks at Dimitri. “Care to roll the dice with me?”

“Why…” Dimitri’s forehead is furrowing. “Why would we take such a thing? Do we not get along well enough without such… aids?”

“Sure,” Claude admits, reaching up to undo Dimitri’s hair where it’s been tied back and brushing through it with his fingers. “But consider this.” Dimitri raises his eyebrows, clearly listening closely. “It might be fun.”

Dimitri snorts, and Claude grins at him, swaying on the balls of his feet.

“When I took it by myself,” he says, lowering his voice, “everything felt so much more intense. I was more sensitive, I could go longer…” His grin turns into something more buttery, touching Dimitri’s jaw with his fingertips. “All my inhibitions just melted away.”

He can practically see Dimitri’s brain short-circuit at that. “You… have inhibitions?”

Claude scoffs, though he isn’t actually offended. “Dick,” he says without heat, smacking at Dimitri’s chest and making his husband laugh. “I think it’s something you’d really enjoy, if you’re willing to give it a try.”

He sees Dimitri lick his lips, his uncovered eye darkening slightly as it dilates.

“It… does sound intriguing,” his husband admits. “Perhaps we should, then.”

Claude beams.

“I don’t think that’s what you meant to say, Mit’ka.” When Dimitri frowns at him, he goes on, lowering his voice in a facsimile of Dimitri’s. “‘Please, Claude, pour your thick, sweet fuck juice down my throat’ —”

_“Claude!”_

Claude laughs aloud as Dimitri tackles him onto their bed.

—

“Well?”

Their clothes are discarded on the ground, the gold and green silks of Almyra tangled with the simple linen shirts that Dimitri prefers, Dimitri’s eyepatch removed and carefully placed on the bedside table. The vial that once held Claude’s potion now lies empty on Claude’s bedside table, drained and shared between the two of them.

“Nn…” Dimitri is lying on his side with his eyes closed, one leg hoisted into the air to give Claude better access. “I don’t… feel any different.”

Claude raises an eyebrow, three of his fingers currently slicked with oil and buried in Dimitri’s ass.

“Then I must be doing it wrong.”

“Hah…” Dimitri, flushed from his forehead all the way down to his navel, swats playfully at Claude. “I mean your… juice. This is lovely as it always is, but I don’t feel any more sensitive than usual.”

“Hmmm.” Claude pauses for a moment, taking stock of himself. He’s certainly hard, his skin tingling pleasantly wherever it touches Dimitri’s, but— as Dimitri said, that’s nothing new. “Me, either,” he says with a shrug. “Maybe it’s not potent anymore.” He sighs loudly. “What a shame.”

“Indeed.” Dimitri’s good eye catches his, serious. “I doubt we can even manage without chemical assistance.”

Claude laughs at that, withdrawing his fingers and crawling over Dimitri.

“Be strong, Dima,” he says, giving him a lazy kiss. “Be strong for Faerghus.”

“Mmmmm.” Dimitri groans into Claude’s mouth, reaching for his erection and guiding it toward his entrance. “Rather be strong for you.”

Dimitri is so open, his entrance so slicked up, that it takes only the slightest push for the head of Claude’s dick to slip inside him, making Dimitri sigh contentedly. Claude doesn’t hesitate to get a grip on the underside of Dimitri’s leg, hoisting it higher so he might have better leverage as he inches forward, giving his hips shallow thrusts as he works his way deeper inside Dimitri, slow and careful.

Once he’s seated fully inside Dimitri, he hears his husband all but whimper.

“Claude,” and he rakes blunt nails down the length of Claude’s back. “Don’t tease me.”

“S-sure,” Claude stammers. It always hits him like this, seeing Dimitri be vulnerable with him in a way he won’t let himself be with anyone else. It usually makes Claude want to be careful, sensing Dimitri to be somewhat fragile behind those stone walls he built around himself — but tonight it’s somewhat harder to hold back, with Dimitri a quivering mess around him.

So he pulls his hips back, snapping forward again with a sharp thrust, and Dimitri cries out, his fingers digging into Claude’s skin again. If tonight is another night where Dimitri leaves bruises, then so be it — Claude wears the marks Dimitri leaves on his body like badges of honor. And besides, it’s hard to hold back when Dimitri smells as good as he does, an intoxicating mixture of leather and sweat and roses, something uniquely Dimitri. Claude finds himself nosing into the crook of Dimitri’s neck as he continues to thrust into him, the scent somehow more intense tonight than it’s ever been before.

There are a few minutes where there is nothing between them but the creak of the bed, the slap of skin on skin and quiet moans and endearments from the two of them, until—

“Claude,” he hears Dimitri gasp, “zvezda, I’m on fire — please —”

Claude pulls back slightly to see Dimitri’s skin flushed scarlet, his eyes all but rolling back in his head from pleasure. And the look of him is breathtaking — it always is — but there’s something about him that makes Claude slow, taking one hand off Dimitri’s hip to rest against his forehead.

“You… are burning up,” he offers, still seated inside Dimitri but moving only by fractions. “You… okay?”

Dimitri is panting, the pupil of his good eye blown wide as it seeks out Claude’s gaze.

“Your… your potion,” he eventually says. “Think it’s… working…” He runs a thumb over the apple of Claude’s cheeks, and even this innocent contact makes Claude shiver. “You too,” he whispers. “So red…”

“Shit.” Claude can feel _everything_, he realizes now that he’s stopped to catch his breath. Every feather-light touch of Dimitri’s fingers or breath on his skin, every shift of muscle around his cock. It somehow feels even more intense than the first time he tested out his brew, which it appears has finally decided to work.

More than that… it feels even more potent than Claude remembers. Every nerve ending is aflame, every instinct inside him commanding him to reach out and pull Dimitri into himself. His aphrodisiac’s effect is certainly alluring… but it’s a little frightening, as well, as Claude feels himself teetering on the brink of an endless abyss.

He pushes Dimitri’s hair out of his face, still feeling short of breath. “Should… should we keep going?”

“Claude,” Dimitri groans, sounding both impatient and aroused. “Gonna _die_ if I don’t come soon.” He bucks his hips, grinding down onto Claude and groaning as he finds his prostate. And, well, Claude finds he can’t argue with that, either for Dimitri’s sake or his own.

So he picks up the pace, rolling Dimitri onto his back and folding his knees back to his chest so he can get even deeper. And the sounds Dimitri makes as Claude pounds into him… Dimitri is so often quiet in bed, biting down on his lip as if to prevent Claude from hearing him. But tonight, he seems to have stopped caring entirely about appearing dignified, loudly moaning his assent as he tugs steadily at his cock.

Claude barely lasts after that, spilling inside Dimitri with a low grunt just as Dimitri clenches around him, milking his own orgasm into his fist. Claude carefully eases out of Dimitri and pulls him close to kiss him, open-mouthed and filthy, every limb still tangled with his.

They bathe in the afterglow for a few minutes, just as they generally do before one of them disentangles himself so they can clean up. But tonight…

“Claude?”

“Yes, Your Loveliness?”

“…Um… I don’t think it’s going down.”

“Oh?” Claude peers down between Dimitri’s legs, and is slightly surprised to see that he’s still fully erect, foreskin retracted so his head is exposed. “Huh,” he says, looking down to see a very similar, familiar sight between his own legs. “Mine, either.” He looks back at Dimitri. “Yours doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Mm… no, I…” Claude carefully brushes his fingers over Dimitri’s erection, and Dimitri _moans_. “Goddess—”

Their gazes lock onto one another.

“What do you want to do?” he asks Dimitri. He feels certain he could already go a second round, but…

Dimitri’s brow furrows for a moment, clearly thinking. Then he looks at Claude, raising a single eyebrow.

“Well,” he says, coyly. “We could…” He trails off suggestively, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.

“We could…?” Claude echoes, grinning at him. He playfully smacks at Dimitri’s hip, getting a handful of his ass. “That mean you want to go again, Dima?”

“I’m merely suggesting that we could.” But Dimitri’s face gives him away, the way he’s smiling at Claude with flushed cheeks, tilting his head so his good eye peers at Claude from under his eyelashes. Claude knows that look. He’s seen it enough times, by now, to paint it from memory.

He and Dimitri both laugh, leaning back in for a few giddy kisses, both of them laughing too much to really find one another’s mouths properly. Claude rolls onto his back, lacing the fingers of both hands with Dimitri’s as he follows. It’s not particularly uncommon for them to go more than one round in a night, particularly with the euphoria of being newly married; but to do so without any kind of refractory period is, well, unusual, and a treat.

“C’mon,” he says, coaxing Dimitri to swing one leg over so he can straddle his waist. “Take me for a ride, azizam.”

Dimitri chuckles, still clinging to Claude’s hands as he sits back. “With pleasure.”

Claude is unable to look away as Dimitri sinks slowly back onto him, his expression melting into something blissful. And when Dimitri starts to move once again, his thighs flexing as he raises and lowers himself atop Claude, Claude can’t help but let go of his hands to cling to his thighs, feeling the way muscle moves beneath skin. Feeling Dimitri ride him even as Claude’s come keeps dripping down his thighs, hearing the way his breath shifts and seeing his pale eyelashes flutter from pleasure… It’s utterly intoxicating, and Claude finds he’s barely able to hang on.

“D-Dima,” he groans, hands fluttering from Dimitri’s hips to his waist, to his chest, tracing his shape. “Fuck, Dima, you feel…”

“Incredible,” Dimitri gasps, bucking that much harder on Claude’s lap, reaching down to brace one hand against Claude’s chest. “Goddess, Claude, your _cock_—” He drives his hips down onto Claude, hard, and they cry out in tandem. “C-can feel… everything…”

“Dima,” Claude gasps again, unable to fully hide his surprise. Dimitri’s grown past most of his initial bashfulness in bed, but he’s still usually reticent about voicing his desires and feelings quite as openly as Claude.

“Love how it feels inside me.” Dimitri moans, and tips his head back, both eyes staring sightlessly up at the canopy above them. He makes a sight like this, bouncing on Claude’s cock, his wedding earring catching the light every time he moves. "Nngh… love how you take care of me…”

“_Fuck_.”

It’s unreal, hearing Dimitri talk like this. Claude almost feels drunk, drunk on Dimitri’s skin and his words, on the way he feels around him. He thrusts upward into Dimitri’s body, seeing stars behind his eyelids as he does so, hearing Dimitri howl.

“M… Mit’ka,” Claude stammers, running his hands up Dimitri’s chest, wanting to feel every inch of him. “Love… love you so fucking much…”

“Love you,” Dimitri gasps. His hands are roaming over Claude’s stomach, his chest, his mouth descending to suck marks into Claude’s neck, and Claude all but wails as he feels teeth scrape skin, even more sensitive than usual.

“Shit,” he curses, letting fly several more choice Almyran swear words as Dimitri’s tongue soothes the bruises he’s leaving behind. “Yes, yes, _please_, mark me, make everyone know I’m yours…”

“G-” Dimitri chokes on his tongue at that, looking up at Claude. “M-mine?”

“You… know I am.” They’ve only barely started again, but Claude can already feel his balls tightening, barely an inch from coming again. “Dima, Dimochka, I’m not gonna last…”

“Aahh…” Dimitri bows his head, brows knitting together as he rises and sinks erratically on Claude’s erection, faster, jerkier. “S good… come inside me, love…”

Claude feels his second orgasm break as Dimitri drives himself down hard, crying out in a way that lets Claude know he’s hitting his prostate. He reaches, blindly, for Dimitri’s neglected erection, and he barely has to touch it before Dimitri, too, is coming once again, leaving white streaks across Claude’s chest as he shudders.

Dimitri lets out a satisfied groan, tipping backward off Claude’s lap so his shoulders land at the foot of their bed. Claude hurriedly reaches out, tangling their fingers together once more to try and keep Dimitri from falling off.

“Got you,” he says almost nonsensically, and Dimitri hangs on, his legs tangled with Claude’s, both of their chests heaving with deep, gulping breaths.

“Claude,” Dimitri says after a minute, once his breathing has evened out, “c-can we… keep going?”

“Nnngh,” Claude says, eloquent, absently wiping away the mess Dimitri has left on him. Still, he caresses Dimitri’s thumb with his as a sign of his consent. Drained as he feels, he’s still high on endorphins, on Dimitri’s touch and scent and voice. What's more, incredibly, he has yet to feel fully sated. “S-sure. Think I’ve got another one in me yet.”

“Hmmm.” Dimitri sits back up, studying him with a knowing expression. “But perhaps you’d like a break from being the one on top.”

“Hah.” Claude grins at him, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “Sounds nice—”

His words are swallowed by Dimitri’s mouth as he crawls on top of him, and Claude groans into the kiss, weaving his fingers through Dimitri’s hair because it’s still entirely far too neat for his liking. Dimitri practically purrs as Claude’s fingers tug gently at the roots, and he pulls back abruptly, both hands firm on Claude’s hips.

“Well then,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “I shan’t keep you waiting.”

And he flips Claude over on the mattress, so quickly all Claude can do is gasp.

“Mit’ka, you— _hah_…!”

He lets out an undignified yelp as Dimitri parts his asscheeks, giving an eager lick to his hole. Claude groans, arching his back to get closer to Dimitri’s mouth, burying his fists in the sheets to cling to something as Dimitri takes him apart with every methodical lick, hoisting Claude’s ass higher so he can keep his mouth on every inch of him.

“H-how…” Claude moans, his eyes rolling back into his head. “How do you still have… this much… energy…?”

“Mmm…” Oh, but that’s nice, feeling the vibrations against his most sensitive area when everything’s already so heightened. “Can’t get enough. Would do this every night if I could.”

Claude’s head is reeling, not only because of the sensations, the feeling of Dimitri’s warm, wet tongue on his hole, his strong hands digging bruises into his hips… but because Dimitri’s never done this before, not once. He’s never even asked Claude if he could, before.

“D…” Claude can barely articulate Dimitri’s name in this state. “What’s… g-gotten into you… tonight…?”

Dimitri pulls back just enough to answer, “You know very well what’s gotten ‘into me,’ Claude.” And, well, he supposes Dimitri has a point — that aphrodisiac had been fairly potent even six years ago, let alone the more potent effect it’s currently having on them both — but this… he doesn’t think Dimitri’s enthusiasm, his stamina, is something he ever could have planned for.

“What…” He laughs, breath hitching as Dimitri’s tongue teases the tight ring of muscle. “What other kinks have you been hiding, azizam?”

Dimitri chuckles, pressing a filthy kiss to Claude’s rim.

“I hope we can find out together.” He smacks Claude’s thigh, and Claude yelps, his erection leaping. “Oil?”

Claude has to grope in the sheets for the discarded, half-full bottle of lubricant, blindly handing it back to Dimitri. Whatever Dimitri might have in mind for them, he’s more than happy to go along for the ride, at this point. Even being with Dimitri for so long, being married to him, he won’t delude himself into thinking he understands everything about him.

Seeing Dimitri like this, so confident… it’s exciting, and alluring, but more than that, it makes Claude feel hopeful.

Dimitri has admitted, before, about being too afraid to fully let go, at least in bed. After everything he went through in the war, five years of pain and rage and isolation and hatred… Dimitri knows, too well, what it’s like to lose control, to hurt everyone he loves. And so, as a result, he’s become too afraid to let go of self-control even in small ways, even in bed with Claude where he knows it’s safe. But Claude has some quiet hope that tonight, when they’re both less inhibited, he can finally learn everything Dimitri likes, every fantasy he’s ever had about Claude, for them to manifest as more than hesitant, shameful whispers in the dark.

He’s ready to love the Dimitri who holds nothing back.

Dimitri’s finger slides into him easily, helped with the lubricant and how relaxed Claude feels after already having come twice. Claude hums, content, lowering his head to rest on his forearms and raising his ass slightly higher in the air to help Dimitri get better leverage.

He’s almost startled when Dimitri’s free hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades, pressing him deeper into the mattress.

“Look at you.” Dimitri’s murmur is reverent, even as he slides a second finger in beside the first. “So gorgeous like this, opening up for me.” Claude squirms, aroused not only by Dimitri’s fingers but by his words, his candor. “I can still feel you inside me, my dear. Are you ready for me to have my turn?”

“_So_ ready.” Claude’s eyes are wide, his face burning. “You really need to talk dirty to me more often, Mit’ka.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Claude twists, smirking back at Dimitri even while the side of his face stays pressed into his pillows. “Probably one of the top ten hottest things you’ve ever done.”

He hears Dimitri chuckle, sounding self-conscious even as he scissors Claude open, the heel of his free hand keeping Claude restrained. “I had no idea it affected you so.” He leans down, his body covering Claude’s, to whisper into his ear. “I suppose I’ll have to keep it in mind in future.”

Claude laughs, feeling dizzy. “You’d better.”

Dimitri has crawled back down, leaving randomly interspersed kisses on Claude’s lower back, the cheek of his ass, working his way back toward his hole that still has two of his fingers inside. He’s stretching Claude without his usual overabundance of care, which Claude can’t help but feel slightly weak for.

And then -- then Dimitri crooks his fingers in just the right way, his teeth sinking into the meat of Claude’s ass, and Claude can’t help but scream, spine curving as he comes for the third time that night. Dimitri pauses, his fingers stilling inside him.

“Goddess.” He sounds as shocked as Claude feels. “Again?” He pauses. “Already?”

“G-give me a break!” Heat has crept up Claude’s cheeks, the back of his neck. “You know I called this shit ‘fuck juice’ for a reason, don’t you?”

“Ah.” Dimitri chuckles, and Claude feels him press a series of light kisses to the base of his spine, lips tracing the knobs of his backbone. “My poor dear.”

Claude moans, resting his cheek against the cool cotton sheets. Even after everything, after going at this with Dimitri for nearly two hours, his erection still hasn’t flagged. And neither, it appears as he glances backward, has Dimitri’s.

Gods, but this aphrodisiac is amazing. And slightly terrible. But mostly amazing.

Dimitri’s fingers are still moving slightly inside him, almost as though he’s uncertain whether to continue. Claude quickly resolves the question.

“Hey.” He smacks his own ass lightly with an open palm. “You getting in here or what?”

Dimitri gives a single crude laugh, resting his forehead against the middle of Claude’s back.

“Poor, neglected Claude.” He crawls up again, bracketing Claude’s body with his own to give him a messy kiss, endearing, clumsy and open-mouthed. “You talk like I haven’t already serviced you three times.”

He kisses Claude’s shoulder, teeth briefly catching skin.

“Don’t you think it’s my turn?”

“Gods.” Claude’s breath hitches from excitement. “Please.”

And that’s all the permission Dimitri appears to need, because the next thing Claude knows, Dimitri is gripping his hips tightly with both hands, entering him all the way with one sharp thrust. Claude’s knees buckle, his spine bending from the force of it.

“Dimitri,” he all but sobs. Dimitri’s usually so careful when he fucks him, moving slowly and using entirely too much lubricant, but this… Dimitri is being rough tonight, his harsh thrusts and minimal lubrication leaving a pleasant burn behind.

It’s _good_. It has no right to feel this good, but it does, his walls feeling every inch of Dimitri as he finally sinks inside him.

It’s only been a few moments, or at least it feels that way, before he feels Dimitri come inside him, and he feels slightly disappointed — but then Dimitri _keeps moving_, keeps fucking him, without even missing a beat, and Claude all but howls.

“S-seriously?” he gasps, looking back at Dimitri. His hair has fallen over his face, both eyes wide open to take in the full sight of Claude — the bad one a pearly white, the good one dark with pleasure.

“Nnngh…” Dimitri grunts, parting Claude’s cheeks to sink deeper inside him. “F-feel like… I could go forever…”

“Oh, _fuck_,” Claude cries, muffled in the pillow where Dimitri is still pressing him. He has a very real, extremely brief moment of crisis over how much longer he can keep this up — but then Dimitri’s hips do that, his cock finding Claude’s prostate, and he has no choice but to get lost in the pleasure of Dimitri inside him, the warmth and scent of him enveloping Claude.

He gets lost in it, in the way Dimitri’s cock pounds into him, in the way Dimitri manhandles him, in the pleasure dancing through his synapses. It’s all Claude can do to stay braced on his hands and knees, to rock back into Dimitri and take everything he’s giving him. Between Dimitri’s attentions and the effects that his potion is still having on Claude’s senses, everything is just on the edge of too-much — too sensitive, too sore, but also too hungry for Dimitri to ever consider asking him to stop.

He barely registers his fourth orgasm hitting, barely a dribble to add to the mess their sheets have become; but Claude’s toes still curl, arching his back like a cat as he yowls. Dimitri’s arm wraps around his chest, pulling him up on his knees to lean back against his chest, and Claude all but slumps against him, barely able to catch his breath.

“Di… ma,” Claude pants, leaning in to nuzzle Dimitri’s face with his, breathing him in deeply. “Gods, I can’t… nngh…” Dimitri is still moving in him, shallow, slow, mindful of his recent orgasm, and even after everything it’s still somehow not nearly enough stimulation. “P-please… fuck me… harder…”

“Did you not just come again?” Dimitri’s teeth catch the crook of his neck, biting yet another mark into his skin, and Claude moans, reaching back to dig his fingers into his hair. “Still greedy for me, are you?”

“Aahn…” Claude twists his neck, planting sloppy kisses on Dimitri’s cheek, his nose, his chin. “Please… Dimochka… kharâbetam…”

A plea bursts from him in his native tongue. _I’m ruined for you._ It would be true even if Dimitri weren’t so thoroughly wrecking him tonight; he will never, could never, find someone who takes such good care of him as Dimitri does, who makes him feel like it’s safe for him to let his walls come down, at least a little.

Dimitri’s hand crawls over his stomach, down his happy trail, to ease around his poor, abused dick, and Claude can’t help but whimper from the combination of sensitivity and soreness.

“The way you feel…” Dimitri growls in his ear. He feels Dimitri’s teeth tease the shell of his ear, and he sobs at the overstimulation. “I don’t know that I can trust myself to hold back. Can you handle it, my beloved?”

“Gods…” Claude is crying actual tears now, mere droplets stinging the corners of his eyes. “I fucking _love_ you, Dimitri. So much. So fucking much—”

He ends with a scream as Dimitri thrusts all the way inside him with one single, rough push, both hands gripping Claude’s thighs to pull them further apart. He ends up seated in Dimitri’s lap, his legs spread as far apart as they’ll go as Dimitri impales Claude on his cock, over and over and over, their skin slapping together with the force of it.

Claude fucking loves every second of it.

It’s different from the earlier times tonight, or even most times he and Dimitri have sex. This time… this time Claude feels barely more than a vessel for Dimitri’s pleasure, a witness to it, and Claude finds he can barely hang on. All his usual words and cleverness have left him as he wails, babbling nonsense in his native language, scrabbling with his nails at Dimitri’s shoulders, his thighs, using the last of his strength just to remain upright.

He’d never imagined how good it would feel, letting someone he loves use him like this, as little more than an outlet for their desires. There had never been anyone he would have contemplated doing this with, before Dimitri. No one else he’s ever trusted enough.

“Nngh…” Dimitri is grunting as he fucks him, hard, leaving bite marks all over Claude’s upper shoulders. “C… Claude… I’m… I…”

His nails rake down the inside of Claude’s thighs, clawing blindly at him and adding to the tapestry of marks that now decorates Claude’s skin. Claude gasps, sharp, both at the pain and the pleasure of it. It focuses him, pulling him out of the hazy cycle of orgasms he’s been caught in for the past several hours, and he reaches to lace his fingers with Dimitri’s.

“Gods,” he gasps, rocking back into him with what little leverage he has. He can feel that coil tighten one final time as Dimitri bucks his hips, forceful, irrhythmic, seeming to lose control. “Gods, goddess, whatever, _fuck_—”

“Nn…” Dimitri releases his legs, relying on Claude’s hands to keep himself spread as Dimitri holds Claude by the waist, steadying him even as he keeps ramping up the pace. His lips find the shell of Claude’s ear once again. “_Mine_.”

“Yes,” Claude sobs, and reaches up and back to grab a fistful of Dimitri’s hair, tugging and making him wail. “Yours, Dimitri, however you want — _use me_—”

He feels, faintly, Dimitri’s tongue tease his earlobe, his teeth close around his wedding earring, the one that matches Dimitri’s own, and he gently tugs…

…And then Claude is truly gone, falling apart and shaking in Dimitri’s arms as Dimitri comes inside him, hard, the bite at his earlobe a warning sign that Dimitri, too, has reached his peak once again. Dimitri fills him once more, spills out of him, but Claude himself has already been milked dry, nothing left to come out of him as he comes one last time…

He thinks he actually blacks out for a minute, because the next thing Claude knows, he’s slumped face down into their pillows once more, a slightly unpleasant dampness at his belly from laying in the mess they’ve made of their silk bedding. He’s only dimly aware of Dimitri kissing and nuzzling his cheek, his neck, soothing the marks he’d just left even while he remains seated in Claude.

“—aude?” He feels Dimitri’s hand card through his hair. “Claude? My… my dear?”

Claude opens his mouth to reassure Dimitri, but the only thing that comes out is a high-pitched giggle, his giddiness and contentment getting the better of his ability to form words for several seconds.

“Hehehe… yaaaay.” He turns his head, seeing Dimitri leaning anxiously over him, and he melts at the sight of him. “Hey there, beautiful.”

He sees Dimitri’s throat bob. “Are you… all right?”

“Mm…”

The mad desire that had seized Claude over the past several hours seems to have burned itself out, leaving a warm contented glow in its place. “Well-fucked” is a term that barely comes close to describing how he feels. What’s more, his cock has finally, finally gone soft, still thick and warm where it rests against his thigh, but as limp and wrung out as the rest of Claude feels.

“All done,” he manages with a lazy grin, but then he grimaces as he feels Dimitri shift inside his oversensitive hole, and he feebly bats him away. “Mm… stop?”

Claude can’t help but grunt in pain as Dimitri pulls out, but he still reaches back behind him, groping blindly for Dimitri’s fingers. He feels slightly disgusting, sticky with sweat and his own come, but he can’t say he’d mind a few good hours of naked spooning with his husband so they can properly enjoy this afterglow.

But one soft sound from Dimitri — a whimper of pain that dies in his throat, like he’s trying to hide it — is enough to make Claude open his eyes, pushing himself up to look back at his love.

Dimitri, somehow, is still going.

He’s a mess, Claude can see as he rolls onto his side, getting a better look. Splotchy blush decorating his chest, fist blurring over his cock. But, as Claude notices with some small amount of alarm, Dimitri doesn’t exactly seem to be enjoying himself. There are tears at the corners of both eyes, his expression pinched from something other than pleasure even as he keeps jerking himself off.

“Dimitri,” Claude says, twisting further, unable to keep the concern from his voice. “Are you okay?”

He holds Dimitri’s shoulders, and he snuffles, tipping forward in Claude’s arms until he’s lying facedown in his lap.

“I-it’s… too much…” he manages, his hips still moving against the mattress even though the movement seems to cause him pain. “Too much… but also… n-not enough…”

Claude can’t help but feel a stab of guilt, knowing this is all due to his concoction. “Oh, Dimochka…”

He pulls Dimitri up into a hug, pulling his hand away from his crotch even though it makes him whine. Claude carefully pulls them both away from the wet spot on the bed as they lie side by side, Claude keeping his touches gentle even as Dimitri continues to whimper in his arms.

“What can I do?” He presses his forehead to Dimitri’s, looking carefully into his eyes. They’re still damp, teary, and his heart aches. “How can I help you?”

“I…” Dimitri’s voice is quavering, and he licks his lips, uncertain. “I-I think… one more… but… Claude, it hurts…”

“I know,” Claude soothes, having seen how Dimitri’s dick is practically raw, undoubtedly painful to the touch. “But let me take care of you, yeah? What would you like?” He grins at Dimitri, running careful fingers through his hair. “Whatever you want. Except, I don’t think I can get it up again. Like, maybe ever.”

Dimitri snorts at that, wiping away the water at the corners of his eyes as he weakly smiles at Claude.

“Why, Claude,” he says drily. “Hoisted by your own petard.”

“Hey, you leave my petard out of this!” He winks, and Dimitri laughs more freely at that, still flushed and gorgeous. “Do you want my fingers, beautiful? Will that get you where you need to go?”

He holds up his right hand, waggling his fingers in Dimitri’s direction as they both chuckle, Dimitri continuing to scrub at his face.

“Nn…” He sniffles, then smiles at Claude. “Have… have I not already used you enough for one night?”

“On the contrary.” He places a soft kiss on Dimitri’s mouth. “I wish you’d use me more.”

He cranes his neck, laying the gentlest of kisses at the scar tissue that bisects Dimitri’s right eye. The eye is cloudy and nearly sightless after the war, blurring Dimitri’s vision and causing him terrible headaches when he tries to use it for anything, and this combined with the eye’s general unsightliness generally prompts him to keep it covered. Claude might be the only person Dimitri lets see him like this, as he truly is, and kissing his bad eye now makes Dimitri’s breath hitch, fresh tears springing to his eyes that Claude continues to kiss away.

He shuffles down the bed, continuing to be gentle as he kisses Dimitri’s overheated skin, his collarbone, the scar at his sternum, the slight softness of his stomach. He’s aiming for closeness, not for further riling Dimitri up, but at this point in the evening it hardly seems to matter, as Dimitri squirms and moans the same way he might if Claude were sucking bruises into each place he brushes his lips against.

He’s finally eye level with Dimitri’s cock, still erect and leaking after everything, the skin flushed almost purple. Claude barely has to put his lips to the head before Dimitri howls, hips jerking involuntarily forward, and Claude sets a gentle hand on his waist to still him for a moment.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He smiles sweetly up at him. “Let me get my mouth around you, first. Then you can use me however you like.”

Dimitri is looking down at him, shocked, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Claude…” He swallows, looking at him in pure wonder. “I love you. So, so much.”

Claude grins up at him. He knows he looks a sight, and he’s too exhausted to do much of anything right now, but this? This, Claude was built for.

“Love you,” he tells Dimitri in response, hushed, reverent. Then he lowers his mouth onto Dimitri’s cock, taking it slow, inch by inch, savoring the smell of it and the way it feels against his tongue. Dimitri’s only slightly too big to fit all the way in his mouth, but he still takes him in deep, relaxing the back of his throat and holding the base of his cock with tired, loose fingers.

Then he stills, looks up at Dimitri through his eyelashes, and waits for Dimitri’s input.

Dimitri all but chokes on his tongue, once he realizes what Claude is doing.

“You’re sure?” he says, hushed, reaching down to stroke Claude’s face. His hips are already involuntarily pressing forward, pushing ever so slightly deeper into Claude’s mouth, and Claude can’t help but close his eyes to savor the feeling of being so sweetly used. “Oh, my darling…”

He grips the back of Claude’s head with one hand, looking utterly exhausted even as he starts to thrust in and out of Claude’s mouth. He’s already close, Claude thinks to himself, and pets Dimitri’s thigh, careful to avoid the scratch marks he’d just left behind. No wonder, after all they’ve done tonight. The only surprise is that Dimitri somehow still has anything left in him.

“Nnngh… my beloved…” Dimitri groans, moving faster now, sounding tormented even as his expression shines with love. “My… my king…”

And oh, but that gets Claude right where he lives, hearing the former prince refer to him as such. These moments when he’s reminded that he, not Dimitri, is the one who still holds onto power, even when there’s a not-insignificant part of Claude that wants to spend the rest of his life kneeling at Dimitri’s feet. And so he moans, faintly, the vibrations traveling up Dimitri’s dick —

And then Dimitri all but screams Claude’s name, his fingers digging into the bruises at his shoulders as he comes, explosive, filling Claude’s mouth so quickly that he nearly chokes. He pulls off, quickly, spluttering — and another spurt hits him in the cheek, the lips, painting the lower half of his face a pearly, translucent white.

He feels… claimed. Utterly, wholly, with Dimitri’s come decorating him both inside and out. Claude can’t help but sigh, content, bowing to let his head rest for a moment in Dimitri’s lap as he swallows Dimitri’s load, licking what he can from his lips.

“Dimochka,” he whispers, lips brushing against Dimitri’s stomach as he drapes an arm over his husband’s thighs. He feels Dimitri’s fingers card through his hair lazily, wordlessly, without any sense of urgency behind his movements. “Was that enough? Or do you still need me?”

“Mmm…” Judging from the way Dimitri sounds above him, he seems to be completely wiped out, on the verge of falling asleep. “Always… need you…”

“Guh…” Claude nuzzles deeper into Dimitri’s skin, knowing he’s leaving a mess on Dimitri’s lower stomach but being too exhausted to care. “Luh you… Dima.”

A light snore answers him from above. Jeez, but Dimitri dropped fast tonight. Then again, they’d both come five times; Claude can’t exactly blame him.

“Dimaaaa.” He pouts, still not moving from where he has his head pillowed on Dimitri’s stomach, his body draped carelessly between his husband’s thighs. “Help me clean up.”

“Unnngh.” Dimitri makes no move to get up, but instead feebly pats the space beside him on the bed. “C’m up here.”

Claude inches upward, too exhausted to get properly on his hands and knees, until he reaches Dimitri’s face, where he’s promptly pulled down into a fervent, passionate kiss with what surely must be the last of Dimitri’s energy. Claude melts into it, heedless of the mess between them, only savoring the feeling of Dimitri’s skin on his as they wordlessly express their appreciation and ardor for one another.

Dimitri is asleep by the time Claude pulls back, and though he’s not far behind, he at least has the presence of mind to reach behind him, grabbing the towel Dimitri keeps on his nightstand so he can wash his face in the mornings. Claude uses it to hastily wipe down his own face and Dimitri’s chest before tossing it behind Dimitri, where it mostly covers the wet spot left behind from when Dimitri had plowed mercilessly into him.

Then he gropes for the duvet crumpled at their feet, flings it over himself and Dimitri, and knows no more.

—

The midday sunlight feels like a dagger through Claude’s head. He winces, even with his eyes shut, and flings an arm over his eyes, trying to block out some of the infernal light.

“Claude…”

“Unnnh…” he can only groan back. He feels much the way he does after a night of heavy drinking - his mouth tacky and dry, his head pounding, his entire body pleasantly sore from last night.

His memories of their little experiment are still intact, though he admits that the whole night became something of a blur, somewhere down the line. Had Dimitri actually managed to fuck him until he cried last night, the way he’s been begging for him to for months?

“Claude… hhh… what time is it?”

“Dunno.” Claude stretches, feeling his spine click, and sighs in contentment. “Good thing we cleared our schedule today, isn’t it?”

He turns his head toward the sound of Dimitri’s voice, just a few inches from him, peeking from behind his draped arm. Dimitri’s eyes are screwed tight against the bright Almyran sunlight, his entire face screwed up in protest, and Claude can’t help but think how cute he looks.

“Guh,” Dimitri says. “I’ll… get us some water?”

And without waiting for an answer, he moves to roll off the far side of the bed, grimacing as his hand crunches through the mess covered by the towel.

“And… we are changing this bedding. Immediately.”

“Yes, milord.” Claude turns to watch Dimitri pad over to the dresser, his peachy ass on full display as he moves. They keep a pitcher there for drinking water, a basin for washing; Dimitri grabs the entire setup as he comes back around to Claude’s side of the bed, walking a bit unsteadily with his bad eye uncovered.

“Water,” Dimitri says hoarsely, setting the basin onto the table next to Claude, the water sloshing over the sides. He pours himself a glass and knocks it back before pouring a second for himself, as well as another for Claude. Claude, too, eagerly gulps it down, savoring its coolness on his parched throat. He holds his glass back out to Dimitri, waiting for another, but…

But his husband is staring at his body. At the hickies and bite marks covering Claude’s neck and shoulders. At the dark red scratch marks that mar his thighs. A shadow falls across Dimitri’s face as he takes the whole sight in, his knees subtly starting to shake, and Claude sets his glass down on the bedside table, resting a hand on Dimitri’s arm.

“Dima,” he says quietly. “Come back to bed, hm? I’m not done cuddling with you yet.”

Really, what the pair of them need more than anything is a proper bath, once they’ve regained the strength to make their way down there. Perhaps he should contact a servant to ready the royal baths for them, complete with a couple’s massage.

Dimitri does as he’s asked, sinking back onto the bed at Claude’s side, and Claude smiles, cozying up to his side and splaying a hand across his stomach, tracing the familiar paths of old scars.

“How do you feel this morning, sweetheart?” he asks, laying his head on Dimitri’s shoulder.

Dimitri’s throat bobs; he can feel it move, being this close to him.

“Good,” he says softly, but gives a crooked smile as he does so. “I mean, tired, a pretty bad headache, but… really, really fucking good.”

Claude wraps an arm around Dimitri’s waist, grinning up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dimitri’s smile falters, and for the first time since last night, he looks uncertain. “How… how are you feeling?”

“Hm.”

Claude stretches, carefully taking stock. His muscles feel limp, his mouth still a little dry and his head pounding, and he’s certainly more aware, this morning, of the collar of bites Dimitri had left around his throat. But there’s one thing, more than anything else, that he’s keenly aware of, at the moment.

“Mmmm.” He beams, still drowsy, at Dimitri. “My ass is wrecked.”

Dimitri makes a choking sound, though it’s unclear whether it’s a laugh or a shriek. Claude chuckles, patting him comfortingly, on the arm.

“Azizam, please.” He gives Dimitri what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “If I didn’t enjoy it, you know I would have stopped you—”

Dimitri makes another sound, this one slightly more miserable, before diving beneath the duvet, pulling it over his head. Claude thinks he hears a muffled apology, and he frowns.

“Hey,” he says, soft, before pulling back the corner of their coverlet, scooting down the bed so he can join Dimitri under it. “Dimitri. Hey. Look at me.”

It’s dark and cool lying under here with him, the sunlight filtered rose through the red silk of the duvet. Dimitri does look at him, though it’s uncertain, his gaze lingering on the bruises at Claude’s shoulders and hips.

“I…” He reaches out a hand, tentative, to touch one before drawing his hand back sharply, like he’s been shocked. “I hurt you. I… I… Claude, I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize.”

Claude takes Dimitri’s face in his hands, firm, and his husband stills.

“I know it scares you,” he tells Dimitri, and softens slightly. “Seeing the marks you left on me. Knowing you were rough with me.” He offers Dimitri a gentle smile, running his thumbs along his cheekbones. “Does it make no difference, at all, that I asked you to? That I said I was yours to use as you wanted?”

He feels Dimitri’s face heat under his fingertips.

“Surely you didn’t mean that,” he murmurs. “You’re… you are a _king_, Claude. And I’m no longer the prince of anything. The name Blaiddyd is… is just a name, here.” He leans into Claude’s hand, turning to leave a kiss on his palm. “I wouldn’t change my decision for anything, but certainly I belong to you, and not the other way around?”

“Nonsense.” Dimitri looks at him in surprise, and Claude reaches to smooth his long, fair hair out of his face. “If anything, we belong to each other. _With_ each other. You’re not here to be my… my plaything, Dima. You’re my partner, equal in all things, even if you’re no longer a king.” He nudges Dimitri’s cheek with his nose, feeling him inhale. “And sometimes,” he continues, almost a purr, “this king just needs to have his ass wrecked by a stunningly handsome man. Thank the Goddess I have you around to do it for me.”

Dimitri actually does laugh at that, clinging to Claude’s wrist, and Claude takes the opportunity to kiss him, with no deeper agenda than to be close to him. And while it stays relatively innocent — both of them are far too worn out for it to be anything but, even after a full night’s sleep — Claude finds himself drawn into it nevertheless, wrapping his arms around Dimitri’s neck to keep him close, feeling Dimitri’s hands press against his back.

“Do you mean it?” Dimitri murmurs against his skin, pressing light kisses on his nose, his cheeks, before pulling back to look in his eyes. “Do… do you really find it pleasurable, me treating you roughly?”

Claude smiles at him, releasing him to run his fingers over the collar of bite marks at his throat.

“These are my royal jewels,” he says, and Dimitri’s eye widens, his face flushing. “And these—” He brings Dimitri’s hands to his hips, matching his fingertips to the petal-shaped bruises he’d left there. “I’ll get to feel these every time I sit down for the next week, remembering what we did together.” He laughs softly, running his fingers through Dimitri’s soft hair. “I keep telling you, I can take pain along with my pleasure. Maybe one of these days I’ll actually get you to choke me.”

“Mm…” Dimitri moves one of his hands to Claude’s neck without applying pressure, as though testing how it feels; then he withdraws it, still looking uncertain. “Maybe.”

Claude takes his hand, kissing his fingertips.

“It’s okay if you never get totally comfortable, being rough with me,” he tells Dimitri. He reaches out to touch Dimitri’s wedding earring, holding the opalized wyvern fang between thumb and forefinger. “I just wanted to show you it was okay. That your strength isn’t always the curse you make it out to be in your head.”

Dimitri whimpers, lowering his head and moving back in to kiss Claude, fervent, a hand sliding into the tangled mess of his dark hair. They sink into it, Dimitri’s tongue lazily exploring Claude’s mouth, both of them making contented hums and sighs the longer they make out. The soft press of Dimitri’s mouth, the warm planes of his body… they anchor Claude, make him feel settled and at home in a real way he hadn’t thought possible, just a few years ago.

He hopes it reassures Dimitri just as much as it does him. Dimitri, who went so long without a home or family, whose past is still full of ghosts that Claude doesn’t know how to exorcise. Claude kisses him, showing him all the love he has in his heart, only a brief preview of the love he knows he has to give Dimitri for the rest of their lives.

Eventually they part, as they always must, Dimitri pressing tired kisses on Claude’s forehead while Claude tucks his face under Dimitri’s chin. A little longer, Claude thinks. Just a few moments longer to hide beneath his blanket here with Dimitri before they head back to their normal life.

Dimitri’s lips brush against his forehead.

“So,” he murmurs. “How soon until I can carry you to the baths?”

Claude’s eyes light up. “Mm, ‘carry me’?” He winds his arms around Dimitri’s neck. “How gentlemanly.”

“Well, you know.” Dimitri flushes, but the smile he gives Claude is full of love. “I really ought to take responsibility.”

And without waiting for Claude’s response, he scoops him up, duvet and all, while Claude clings to his neck with a surprised yelp. A private passageway connects their bedchamber to the palace’s Almyran-style baths, with their network of cold and hot pools, complete with steam room and massage tables. Exactly the kind of pampering they both need, after putting their bodies through the wringer.

It’s only too bad that it’s unlikely Claude will be able to replicate his aphrodisiac in order to have another experience like this. He could do without the body aches and dehydration, but getting to be with Dimitri this fully, finally unrestrained? Further breaking down the barriers between the two of them? He can think of no more fitting way to spend his days as a newlywed.

“I’ll be sure to give you a massage, once we’ve bathed properly,” Dimitri says. “You, uh… must be sore.”

“Mm.” Claude leans up to kiss Dimitri’s cheek, smiling at how sweet he’s being. “I have a good husband.”

Dimitri laughs, pulling Claude closer as he carries him into the passageway, and their mouths find each other once again.

“Mine’s better.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Twitter @ apostaroni if you want to see what I'm up to there! I (FullmetalChords) also like coffee, fwiw ;)


End file.
